


Liminal: Lust/Love

by Nomanono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asexual Character, Casual Sex, F/M, Hook-Up, Large Cock, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Size Difference, Tiny Vagina, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: Sometimes you can't sleep because your roommate keeps bringing people home and screaming during sex and you think you're mad at them for keeping you up but actually you're mad because you want to be the one making them scream and it takes your partner being like 'dude' for you to make sense of anything much less do something about it.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 229





	Liminal: Lust/Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra/gifts).



> Happy Secret Satan, Capra! ! I... did my best. And I'd already finished it when I got your bonus info, but the bonus info was intriguing enough I almost started over, but then I realized I would never complete this. However: my dream world is a casual-sex-positive world so maybe it's finally time to write that one into existence. THANK YOU FOR YOUR AWESOME CLARITY.
> 
> Also: shoutout to Justine, Megan, and Sela, whose stories heavily influenced... uhhhh basically this entire fic. Y'all amaze me every day.

The rain outside couldn’t decide between lashing and drizzling, alternating between a half-frozen frenzy and the trickling melt of icicles. It was a strange midnight storm, the sort of hair-raising climactic oddity that made Victor want nothing more than to hide away under the covers and sleep until it was over. But Victor hadn’t slept in days. Instead he sat at the kitchen table, balancing a sticky shot glass on its corner while Yuuri watched from seven thousand kilometers away. Just when he had it balanced, a loud thud shook the table and it toppled to its side, rolling in a circle.

It was far from the first thud that evening.

“What’s that noise?” Yuuri asked off-hand, eyes distracted, watching something out of view.

“Guess.”

“Yuri brought someone home again?”

Victor put the shot glass on its edge again, the lone table light making crescents over the wood grain as it passed through the glass. Incomplete halos. “Third time this week. And they’ve got first practice tomorrow.”

“That’s… five hours from now, your time.”

Victor just looked at the camera, lifting his brows in affirmation.

“He’s going to get sick,” Yuuri said. Yuuri’s face was blue-lit from his computer screen, catching his fat-rounded cheeks like moons.

“They,” Victor corrected, almost on automatic.

“They. Sorry. It’s still—” Victor watched Yuuri’s face contort apologetically.

“Me too sometimes.”

A particularly loud cry carried through the apartment walls. Yuuri gave a rueful smile across the screen. “And here I was going to ask why you aren’t sleeping.” 

“This one won’t last long,” Victor said. “I can tell.”

Yuuri snorted, eyes darting over Victor’s shoulder, where Yuri’s door was just out of sight. “Remember what we talked about.”

Victor’s lips pursed together, nose twitching in subtle remorse. “I will.”

— 

Yuri’s chosen for the night was a towering hulk of a hockey player: dark-eyed and dark-haired, beard still glistening with god-knows-what when he walked past Victor five minutes later. He shouldered his skate bag and didn’t even look at him—at least until he patted his pockets and twisted around to find his keys. His eyes stumbled over Victor, almost surprised; he grabbed the buckle of his belt in a heavy hand and hiked up his pants with a grunt. 

Pathetic posturing.

The grunt scooped his keys off the table’s edge and left, wind howling after him. The storm thrashed at the window, like it knew Victor was alone. He watched Yuri’s door as he balanced the vodka bottle upside down on the table, shot glass long forgotten. In the thick plastic reflection he saw Yuri’s door finally open, a waterfall of long blond hair trailing after a naked body and the scent of sweat and sex wafting out after them. Out one door, into another, but they didn’t close the door to the bathroom; they never did. 

The bottle toppled as Victor caught motion in the corner of his eye. He shot a look over his shoulder, staring at the streaks of street light in the rain. The retinal imprint of Yuri’s naked body appeared in inverse, dark purple silhouette walking through the water trails. 

“You drunk again?” Yuri asked. 

They stood outside the bathroom door, body bare, smooth where it hadn’t been when they’d first met. Victor picked the bottle up off the rug, setting it back on the table. 

“You can’t get drunk every time I bring someone back,” Yuri said.

“Not at the rate you bring them back.”

“Tch.” Yuri set a hand on their hip, as feminine as always. Victor swore he saw slickness on Yuri’s inner thighs: a stronger gleam of light, bright highlights in the dim hall. Anger swelled up as he thought of the grunt and that wiry beard between Yuri’s legs. Yuri’s teeth glowed as they smirked: “Doctor’s orders.”

“Bullshit.”

“It could close up.”

“Too proud to fuck yourself?”

“You sure are.” 

Victor threw the bottle. It clattered harmlessly off the wall near Yuri’s feet, and Yuri didn’t even flinch. They stepped over it on the way to the kitchen, conversation concluded, and grabbed a glass of water with their back to Victor. Victor didn’t want to watch. He didn’t want to stare at the bob of Yuri’s throat or the brush of Yuri’s hair across their shoulder blades or the long lithe legs they’d kept clean-shaven. Yuri bent at the waist, giving Victor a perfect view. Their arms folded over the sink’s edge, performing boredom while they flipped through their phone. They lifted one leg, crushed their foot into a curl, and then repeated with the other foot. Outrage boiled inside Victor again, stoked by Yuuri’s voice in his head: remember what we talked about.

Peeling himself away from the table—his eyes away from Yuri—Victor forced himself away from the kitchen. The shadows were soft and deep, oscillating to the patter of rain on glass windows. Victor walked past Yuri’s room, and the bathroom, and used all his willpower not to look back as he closed his door behind him.

— 

Every night it was someone new. A bouncer from their favorite club. A fitness trainer from the rink’s gym. A sculpted accountant with boundless curiosity. Victor only had so much anger, stoked from a thousand internal, unspoken arguments with Yuri. How could you, who are they, you don’t know any of them, have some dignity, don’t you—

He cowed himself. For all of that outrage he’d proved impotent in practice. All he could manage aloud was a few sarcastic snarls. Who was he to tell Yuri any of those things? 

Yuri had gone to Thailand alone. They’d hoarded away their winnings, waited until the off season, and then just… vanished. Weeks passed without update, then a trickle of pictures of white sand and tropical trees, blue water and painted toes and an always-soft face losing what little edge it had to estrogen and a brief bout of hormonal acne. They came back to Petra forever changed: walked into Victor’s apartment with a box and a duffel bag, claimed a room, and never left.

Yuuri said: Maybe it’s for the best. Like Victor had been lonely. Like Victor hadn’t had everything he needed with Yuuri several thousand kilometers away. Maybe it’s for the best, until the evenings when Yuri brought someone new back. Victor thought it was just a trial, a fascination, an experiment. Then it happened again, and again, and again.

Mila’s ex. One of the judges after the Russian Championships. One of the judges before the Russian Championships. Risky across several levels. Yuri still competed in men’s singles. They still looked like Yuri, and it was easy enough to stuff a dance belt. Maybe it was a bit strange that Yuri’s body never hardened the way most men’s did, but only the anonymous internet knew Yuri’s real journey. A hundred faceless nobodies on hook up apps: disembodied cocks in skin and silicon. 

And Yuuri.

And Victor.

—

Yuri sat naked on the edge of the kitchen table, one leg folded up to examine the multi-layered blister on the back of their ankle. They’d wanted new skates to match their new body, but boots never broke easy—their price was always paid in blood. 

“You need a gel pad,” Victor said. He’d been sitting with a drink and his phone when Yuri came over and planted themself right beside him. 

“Then buy one for me.” Off-handed and casual as Yuri scratched the blister’s edge. They’d stared at boot catalogues for hours before throwing them aside and deciding on a custom order. White boots, striped in black. It felt like the entire internet lit up when they arrived—or at least a dozen instagram tags. Everyone loved the look. Assumed Yuri was owning the tiger aesthetic. Victor recognized the overlap of male and female, combined binary to make something new. 

“It’s not that bad,” Yuri said as if Victor had asked. Their foot extended towards Victor, legs splayed presumably to allow Victor to see the blister. 

“You’re going to get come on the table,” Victor said.

Yuri stared at him, snorting. “You think I let them all come in me?” Yuri leaned forward, voice a sultry snarl: “No one’s come in me.” 

Victor didn’t let his eyes stray below their neck, just held Yuri’s jade eyes.

“Don’t you want to see?” Yuri asked.

“I’m familiar,” Victor said. 

“Then why do you keep staring when you think I can’t see you?” They had one leg on either side of Victor now. Their feet were chewed up with callouses and lace bite, knee bruised from a bad fall, and they had a hickey-like mark on their ankle where the edge of punched out leather still ground during their spins. They poked Victor’s chest with their toe, then used the ball of their foot to lift Victor’s chin, pointed like a prima. “Want to touch instead?” 

Victor touched. He grabbed Yuri’s ankle and lifted it, higher and higher, still staring at them, waiting for Yuri to flinch. 

Then Yuri was in a vertical split, and Victor couldn’t push their leg any farther. Victor’s body was nearly flush to Yuri’s, and he was the one who wound up flinching, dropping Yuri’s ankle and retreating to his room while Yuri snorted disappointment in his wake.

“Katsudon was right.”

—

Victor refused to give in to the sinking feeling those words planted in his mind. He tossed and turned and it wasn’t until the next day that he finally relented and dialed Yuuri’s number.

“You look terrible,” Yuuri said when they connected.

“Love you too,” Victor chuffed. When Yuuri just gave him that withering look, Victor sighed. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Yuri again?”

“I’m sure there’s someone new on the way over now. It’s probably some hockey jock that won’t last more than a minute. He’ll be too bulky for Yuri’s tastes anyway. They like twinkier guys.”

Yuuri studied Victor over the screen, long enough to make Victor shift awkwardly at the table. “It won’t hurt me. You know that, right? What we talked about?”

“I can’t. You’re my—”

“It doesn’t matter what I am, Victor,” Yuuri said, fretting at the edge of his sleeve and not quite looking at the camera. “I can’t do any of that for you. It’s not going to hurt me if someone else can,” Yuuri said. “You flew across the world for me. You spent a year of your life training me. You call me every night. That isn’t going to disappear.”

Victor winced. He thought back to his last encounter with Yuri, to the words that made him freeze just inside his room. “What did you tell them?” 

Yuuri’s hesitation spoke volumes. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before slipping them on again. “I told him where I stand on it. You two. I told him— fuck, them—about me.” He waved a hand, frustrated at himself. 

“So… they know you and I never…?”

“They got a good laugh out of it,” Yuuri smiled resiliently. 

“Laugh at what?” Yuri asked, stepping out of their room. 

They strolled naked over to Victor, draping themself over Victor’s shoulders like a shawl as they peered at Yuuri on the screen. “Eh Katsudon,” Yuri said. “Tell him. He keeps looking at me.”

Victor couldn’t tip his head away from Yuri. The heat of them felt like a collar, claiming him.

“You have to want them,” Yuuri said to Victor. “I see you looking, too. I saw it from the beginning.”

Victor exhaled slow: “Yura. You bring so many of them back. You treat yourself so terribly—“

“Oh fuck yourself,” Yuri said, stepping away from Victor. Even when they were angry they looked like they were dancing. “Enough twisted pity, old man! My body finally makes sense; it finally feels like it’s supposed to. You know how incredible it is to feel like yourself for the first time in your life? Do you have any idea how good that is? So fuck you if you think trying everything I’ve missed isn’t exactly what I want.” 

“Almost what you want,” Yuuri chimed.

“Tch!” Yuri hissed at the screen. “You promised!”

“You both want each other! You think anyone buys the hatred when you both just keep living together! I’m exhausted hearing you both whine about each other,” Yuuri exclaimed. “Just—fuck already!” 

Yuri sneered at the screen, arms crossed daintily over their chest. In the ensuing silence they bristled at Victor: “Well?!”

“Yuuri—” Victor whispered.

“I want this too,” Yuuri said. “It’s obvious. You’re both there for each other. I love you.”

Yuri rolled their eyes and picked up the screen, then reached for Victor’s hand. “Like you’re getting out of this, Katsudon. Come on. You can play too.”

“W-what?” Yuuri startled. 

“If you’re there too maybe old man here won’t have an aneurysm.”

Victor found himself pulled along after Yuri, too stunned by the past twenty seconds to even respond. “My room,” Victor said when Yuri grabbed the door handle for theirs.

A snort, but compliance. 

Victor’s room was a mess, several boxes from Hasetsu still stacked by one wall, empty bottles near the bed, intermixed with wadded tissues. Yuri found a place for Yuuri on the nightstand, propped up on one of those bottles. Yuri opened Victor’s nightstand drawers, rifling through until they found a mostly-empty bottle of lube. “You buy me gel pads I’ll buy you lube,” Yuri snickered as they flicked open the cap. Lying back on the bed, Yuri doused their fingers and brought them between their legs, rubbing the liquid slowly over their labia and into their body. 

“Come on,” Yuri said when he noticed Victor was staring. “Get undressed.”

Victor glanced at the screen, but Yuuri just nodded his head. “Go on. Take your clothes off.” Victor shivered. Take your clothes off. How many times had he wished Yuuri would say that to him? He’d never imagined it like this, though.

He found himself drawn to the tangle of delicate pale limbs on the bed, and Yuuri was right there, supporting him, encouraging him even. Victor pushed down his sweatpants and lifted his shirt over his head, tiny black briefs standing between them as he climbed onto the bed. Into the tangle.

“Hard as a rock,” Yuri said with a roll of their eyes, grabbing a handful of Victor through the material. “Predictable. How long have you wanted me?”

“You walk around the apartment naked and smelling like sex,” Victor said. “Even before the surgery.”

“You wanted me before then,” Yuri said. “How long?”

“Always,” Yuuri answered for him.

“And you really can’t appreciate this, Katsudon?” Yuri turned their attention to the screen, hefting Victor in their hand, rolling their thumb over the pulsing shape of a thick cock. The black briefs pulled away from Victor’s skin, tented and stretched too far to stay sealed to his hips. 

“I’ve never wanted it,” Yuuri admitted. “… This is nice, though.” 

That made both Yuri and Victor turn to the screen to see Yuuri’s slight blush.

“This?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri recovered and swept a hand through his hair. “Take them off, Victor. Let me see.” 

“I’ll do it,” Yuri said. They groped Victor once more through the fabric, squeezing a wet spot through the cotton before sliding it down, over Victor’s ass and his knees and off his ankles. Yuri tossed it into a corner, then laid back, one leg bent but both bowed open in invitation. “Come here.”

“It won’t hurt?” Victor asked. 

Yuri snorted. “No.”

“Go, Victor,” Yuuri urged when Victor hesitated. With their combined encouragement, Victor found himself on his knees between Yuri’s legs, gazing down at long last, giving in to that enduring temptation. He’d never let himself look before, but now his eyes and fingers trailed over semi-familiar flesh, whispered over new anatomy.

“Can you feel it?” Victor asked. Yuri didn’t have a quippy comeback. They were staring at Victor’s fingers too, lip caught in their teeth, nodding.

Victor’s wet fingertips rode along the crease of Yuri’s body, sliding up and down, parting the skin farther with each motion until the tips of his fingers were nestled inside. 

“Keep going,” Yuuri said. Yuri barked a pleasured little gasp at their friend’s sudden enthusiasm. 

“It feels so tight,” Victor murmured as he tried to slide two fingers deeper, his second knuckles stretching the opening with their combined girth. “How do you handle more than fingers?”

“I can stretch,” Yuri assured, head tipping back. “Doctor’s orders, remember? I just usually pick the sad fucks with pencil dicks. They complain less when they see what I’ve got.”

When Victor pushed his fingers farther, Yuri’s body arched, their eyes rolling up for a second. They uncapped the lube with a swipe of their thumb and held it towards Victor. “Cock. Now.” Yuri grabbed Victor’s dick like a leash as soon as it was close enough and pulled it to them, drizzling lube over the length and stroking several times to ensure it was fully coated, and several times after that just to see the way Victor’s body twitched and hear the whimpers fall off his lips.

When Yuri was finished they leaned back again, hooking a leg around Victor’s waist to tug him closer.

“Yuuri,” Victor gasped.

“Go on,” Yuuri repeated. “Let me see you.”

Victor crawled over Yuri, looking into their eyes until Yuri’s gaze darted over to Yuuri’s screen. 

“Can you see everything, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, grabbing the phone. They brought it to the juncture of their bodies, where Victor’s cock bounced just beyond Yuri’s new entrance. 

For a moment, everyone held their breath.

“Do it, Vitya,” Yuri whispered.

Victor clasped his cock in one hand and aligned. Yuri’s flesh dimpled under the pressure of his cockhead and then the lips slipped open around the intruding force. It didn’t feel like Victor anticipated. Not like a cock and not quite like the cunts he was used to. Quite literally it was a sleeve of skin, Yuri’s cock inverted, and Victor gasped at that thought, of sliding his cock into Yuri’s. 

He’d always been bigger; no wonder it was such a tight squeeze.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Victor whispered.

“You aren’t. You can fit,” Yuri said. “Just—push.”

Victor had only managed to get the head in—if nestled in the labia could even be considered ‘in’—but at Yuri’s encouragement he grasped their shoulder for leverage and thrust. Yuri grunted, Yuuri gasped, and Victor managed another centimeter inside, barely the width of his pinky. 

“Don’t stop,” Yuri insisted, voice creased with exertion. They were pushing back onto Victor just as firmly. 

“Again, Victor,” Yuuri encouraged. 

He withdrew a fraction and then bucked his hips, wedging his cock farther into Yuri’s small opening, stretching it out, forcing it to accommodate him. Yuri cried out, just like Victor had heard every night, only now Victor was the cause. 

The thought spurred him on. He thrust hard, trusting Yuri, and was rewarded with another two centimeters and a scream that trailed off into a moan. “Yes,” Yuri shouted. “Yes—” A tremor ran down Yuri’s spine and reverberated in Victor’s dick like a fucked up tuning fork.

“Yuri,” Victor breathed. Both Yuris responded simultaneously:

“More,” Yuri cried. 

“Keep going,” Yuuri urged. 

Yuri held the phone closer, Yuuri’s view a shaky square of Victor’s cock disappearing into Yuri’s folds. He was halfway there now, Yuri’s body stretched taught around him. Every time they clenched the already tight passage narrowed and tried to extrude him. Yuri had always been petite, and after the surgery additional growth became far less likely. How was their body supposed to take anything as thick as Victor?

“Fuck,” Yuri gasped, nails cutting into Victor’s hip. 

“Are you really that big?” Yuuri whispered. “I always knew you were nice, but I didn’t know—”

“Fuck,” Yuri repeated. “Fuck, Katsudon, he’s huge. Fuck—fuckfuckfuckfuck,” Yuri let out strings of curses as they arched themself onto Victor, earning another centimeter. Victor grabbed both Yuri’s hips and bucked; all at once he was in to the hilt, the edge of the phone digging into his hip bone as Yuuri watched his cock disappear in Yuri’s body.

“This can’t feel good,” Victor told Yuri, but Yuri just shook their head, eyes closed, mouth askew. Yuri broke themself to earn their medals on the ice. Victor should have known better. Of course Yuri would push themself as hard as it took to get the results they wanted.

Yuuri’s muffled voice emerged from between their bodies: “Is it good?”

“Yeah,” Yuri groaned. “Yeah. You really don’t want this Katsudon?”

“No,” Yuuri said quickly, nose crinkling. “No. You take it. It looks good going into you.”

“You haven’t been interested in anything but you like this?” Victor asked breathlessly, reaching to grab the phone so he could see Yuuri’s face. 

Only it wasn’t Yuuri’s face. It was Yuuri’s dick, and his hand, and he was touching himself. 

“… This works for me,” Yuuri said. “I told you it was… nice.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hard in my life,” Victor said incredulously, his own erection threatening to flag from the revelation of it, if Yuri’s body wasn’t so damn tight and Yuuri’s so damn alluring. 

“Great,” Yuri said, wiggling his hips. “Now shut up both of you and keep fucking me.”

Victor looked at Yuuri—or Yuuri’s cock—and started to move. He worried about getting in again, but a few centimeters out and he was able to sink right back to the hilt, the lube facilitating the easy glide of skin on skin. Out and in again, deeper, harder, widening out the passage he’d carved into Yuri. Familiarity was kicking in, bestial instinct underlying his motions. He wanted to push as hard as he could, to mate or breed or pass on his genes. He wanted to come. And fuck, the thought of adding his come to Yuri’s body— When was the last time—?

“Vitya!” Yuri screamed as he thrust. “Vitya!” The electric pain of nails flared down his back, leaving red furrows. “Vitya!” and oh, god, it had been so long—No, it had never been like this.

Yuri grabbed his hair. Yuri bit his neck. Yuri squeezed all around Victor’s cock, body a size too small for him, but Victor burrowed in all the same.

“Show me, show me,” Yuuri begged, muted by the bedsheets where the phone had fallen. It was Yuri that picked up the phone and angled it on the nightstand, Yuri who positioned it so Yuuri could see Victor grab the headboard, rock up onto his knees, and slam into Yuri for all he was worth while Yuri screamed like they were dying.

No one else had ever made Yuri scream so loud. 

Victor added his scream, slamming to the hilt and freezing there as his body pulsed, pulsed, pulsed, and sagged.

“Ohh-hhn,” Victor choked. “God.”

The phone screen just showed Yuuri’s ceiling, Yuuri’s ragged breathing and the slick slack of skin amidst the static. Yuri’s hands held Victor to them, strangely gentle amongst the aftershocks. They stroked Victor’s hair, their heart thumping in his ear.

“We all enjoyed that?” Yuri asked at last. 

“Sh-show me,” came another whimper from Yuuri’s phone. “Show me what he put in you.”

Fuzzy-headed, Victor lifted himself back up again. Yuri propped themself on their elbows, legs spreading, unhooking from where they’d clutched Victor’s hips in desperation. Victor adjusted the phone, bringing it to the juncture of their bodies. Almost regretfully, he started to withdraw, showing Yuuri the slow retreat of his softening cock out of Yuri’s sex. Yuri held their breath subconsciously. They exhaled and flexed when the head finally drooped out, followed by a streak of pearl. Yuuri gasped; a clearish splat covered the phone’s camera. Yuri could only snort breathlessly in response. Yuri looked at Victor, cocky smirk across their face like they’d just won gold again.

“That uh,” Yuuri rasped. “Uh…”

Yuri tugged on Victor, pulling him down onto the bed beside them. Three sets of ragged breaths created a post-coital chorus. 

“We’re going to keep doing this,” Yuri declared, bringing the phone to their chest, next to Victor. “The three of us.”

“Yuuri, did you really…?” Victor asked, but the answer was obvious, smeared across the camera. Yuri snickered as it flashed dark and bright, Yuuri scraping the lens clean with a tissue. Victor grabbed his own tissue and brought it between Yuri’s legs, but Yuri caught his wrist. “Leave it.” And when Victor looked curiously at them: “I like it,” they shrugged. 

“I thought you never let anyone—“

“Well you’re not just anyone,” Yuri said, then rolled their eyes at themself. “Fuck, look what you made me say. Asshole.”

“I can’t believe I liked that,” Yuuri interrupted. There was still a fuzziness to the lens, but Yuuri’s exhausted smile was clear. He was boneless on his bed, barely able to hold the phone up. For a long time no one spoke, and then: “Victor, did you—”

Victor’s eyes were closed, cheek resting on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri had an arm around his shoulders, fingers playing with his silver strands. His lashes fluttered briefly, then stayed closed, exhausted and contented and finally able to sleep.

“I’ll watch out for him,” Yuri said before Yuuri could speak again. They gave a cocky smile to the camera. “Until you get back.”

“And maybe after, too?” Yuuri asked, voice hopeful.

Yuri snorted, gazing at the camera with a lazy satisfaction. “Definitely.”


End file.
